


Guiding Light

by Broadway_trashdump



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Artist Grantaire, Chance Meetings, Deaf Character, Deaf Grantaire, Enjolras Being An Idiot, Enjolras Being Enjolras, Enjolras Was A Charming Young Man Who Was Capable Of Being Terrible, Enjolras has Adhd, F/M, M/M, Not Beta Read, Tattooed Grantaire, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:54:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28461990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Broadway_trashdump/pseuds/Broadway_trashdump
Summary: Enjolras has only ever seen him in passing, but is almost sure he’s in love with the mysterious man he sees at Fantine’s Cafe.Will the chance encounters lead him to something new that he doesn’t understand or did he ruin it already?
Relationships: Cosette Fauchelevent/Marius Pontmercy, Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Joly/Bossuet Laigle/Musichetta
Comments: 12
Kudos: 29





	1. DeafBing

**Author's Note:**

> Hi !! Hello !! Please enjoy my brain child. Just a note, everything written in italics is signed, and written how it would be signed, asl doesn’t use words like to, is, it, or like that. Please enjoy!

Enjolras was the third customer in line at the coffee shop, Fantine’s, tapping his foot impatiently the first time he saw the man. 

He breezed right past the line of people waiting, looking down at his phone as he marched right up to the counter, where the barista waved at him and handed him his drink. He nodded to her, smiling brightly, pocketed his phone, and turned to sit at a barstool pressed to the counter.

Enjolras realized he was staring, 

The man was beautiful. His olive tanned skin, stubbly face and dark curls falling onto his face. 

His eyes were dark brown, reminiscent of fresh soil. Enjolras remembers his eyes most, and the darker freckles sprayed across his cheeks and nose. He wore dark jeans, a black t-shirt and black peacoat, which he unbuttoned and shrugged off revealing a forest green cardigan. 

He was tall, and built like a tree, strong and sturdy. Bulky, if you will. 

Enjolras realized he was still staring as Cosette, the usual cashier at the counter called his name. 

“Enj— it’s your turn come on!” 

He shakes himself out of his thoughts and completes his order, a hot Matcha latte with lavender syrup. 

As he waited at the counter, he slyly continued to watch the man. He’s pulled out a tanned paper sketchbook out and some pencils as he sketches the barista who is making drinks— Eponine, Enjolras thinks. 

It’s a beautiful pencil sketch, coming out almost as a black and white photo. 

He pauses to push up his sweater sleeves, tattoo covered forearms appear, flowers and insects and other images that Enjolras can’t make out coat the mans skin. 

“Matcha hot for— Enj— Enjora—“ 

“Enjolras. Sorry, thank you.” He says taking the drink from the barista. 

“Sorry, I’ll get it one day.” Eponine says with a laugh. As Enjolras backs away from the counter as his phone begins to beep, his alarm for work notifying him he’s going to be late. As he backs away he bumps into someone— the man. 

“Oh! Oh hi- I’m sorry I didn’t even see you! I’m sorry!” Enjolras says as he’s backing away again to the door, eyes locked with the man. He just flashes a dazzling smile, and waves Enjolras off with a certain playfulness on his features. Enjolras smiles and waves back, giddy like a teenager. 

Courfeyrac and Combeferre could not escape from the endless babble about the mysterious tattooed coffee artist. 

—————

It was a usual Tuesday for Grantaire. He’d woken up around 5 am, went to the gym to work out, showered, ate breakfast and was on his way to school to work on his senior design project. 

He, of course, needed to stop at Fantine’s first. His day could not continue without a Caramel Latte, made by the best barista this side of town. 

He shoots s text to Eponine, asking her to start his order, and Venmo’s her the 4.27 it will cost. It’s just easier this way instead of holding up the line getting stuck chatting with Cosette or Eponine during the morning rush. 

She responds with the coffee emoji and a thumbs up emoji, and Grantaire laughs. 

Fantine’s has always been so warm and welcoming. The owner, a man named Valjean, lets the local Deaf Association have weekly meet ups here. Grantaire comes and gets to mingle with the other deaf people who live in NYC and chat, catch up with eachother, it’s a nice break in the week in a time when everyone can get so wrapped up in themselves and miss communication with their peers. Even some hearing people come to better their ASL skills. Usually Cosette and Eponine are here because they’re working, but Grantaire has also met Jehan, a small poet who thinks ASL is visually artistic and is trying to make his slam poetry meetings more inclusive. 

Bahorel also comes but he isn’t actively learning asl. They’ve been friends since they were children, and Rel was signing way before that due to his mother being deaf. 

Grantaire pulls the door to Fantine’s open as he composes a text, and he is flooded with warmth, and the smell of baked goods. 

The cold January air was burning his nose, but it begins to warm up in the safety of the cafe, as he shrugs his coat off.

He breezes past the line of people and right up to Eponine, collecting his drink happily. 

He checks his watch and has some time to kill, may as well take a seat and get some practice sketching in. He pulls out a bar stool and begins rifling through his backpack for his sketchbook and pencil. 

~~~

Just as he’s getting into his doodle of Eponine some absolute idiot who was walking backwards bumps into him, sending a thick black pencil line across the drawing. 

‘Are you fucking kidding me’ he thinks to himself, looking up to the person, ready to absolutely snap their neck when he’s met with— 

A literal god among men. 

He’s talking, Grantaire knows that. The warbled sound coming through his hearing aids like a low rumble. Stupid things, hearing aids are. 

Cool, you know, he could hear like a bomb go off, or maybe a car horn on a good day, but what does he pay all this money for if he can’t hear what people are SAYING? damn you Alexander Graham Bell. 

He just stares, nodding. The man is still babbling away. 

Maybe Grantaire should get a sign, or a T-Shirt: “deaf man, do not speak to me.” 

He is beautiful though. His face practically shines from his smile, teeth perfect and white. His hair is a pile of neat curls on his head, ranging in shades of blond from dusty to almost platinum ringlets. His eyes. 

His eyes catch Grantaire off guard. Deep blue, unlike any he’s ever seen before. They look like the ocean, off the edge of a boat miles from the shore, 

And just like he appeared, he quickly flitted away, practically running away backwards. 

Grantaire looks around the shop, which has pretty much cleared out by now, to see if anyone else witnessed whatever whirlwind that was. Eponine is leaning on the counter in front of him on the other side of the bar. 

_”who-that?”_ Grantaire signed, still awestruck. 

Eponine chuckles and signs back _“Name um- many letters. Don’t know, first part E-N-J. Cosettes friend.”_

Grantaire rolls his eyes and groans. He starts tapping the bar top to get Cosettes attention, She smiles and walks over, waiting for her time to shine. 

_”name what? E-n-j-o-l-r-a-s. Goes to university. Name-N-Y-U law.”_ she signs, Grantaire smiles brightly at this, he goes to NYU as well— well... for art, but that doesn’t matter. 

_“Need sign name, name too long.”_ Eponine signed 

_Grantaire considers for a minute, then signs ‘E’ tapping next to his eye._

_“For beautiful eyes.”_ he signs , making Eponine and Cosette both bust out laughing 

_“Someone has a crush.”_ Cosette signs excitedly. 

—————— 

The second time, Enjolras was lost on campus. This stupid stupid school was too big with too many buildings and too many rooms. 

He thinks he’s in the art building? Maybe? 

It’s just rows and rows of rooms with glass walls and doors. The studios, Enjolras thinks to himself as he sees students painting, doing vocal warm ups with a partner, then finally, there he was. 

The man from the coffee shop is sitting at a pottery wheel, molding and shaping some dark orange glob of clay. His hair is pushed back by a headband, out of his face. He can hear bass heavy music leaking out of the room, he thinks it’s The Arctic Monkeys. 

The tip of his tongue is poking out of his mouth in concentration as the lump of clay slowly begins to take shape as the man stretches it up, sticking his hand in it to widen the opening, as it slowly becomes a beautiful vase. 

He’s wearing light wash jeans coated in drops of paint and clay water, as well as a white t-shirt with cuffed sleeves, and a green apron with the name “Taire” embroidered on the left breast of the apron. a drastic change from the coffee shop two weeks ago. 

From this moment of Enjolras being an absolute creep, he’s learned a few things. 

1\. the mans name is Taire.  
2\. His tattoos are amazing feats of art. 

Enjolras studies his arms, one is a full sleeve of the most intricate tattoos Enjolras thinks he’s ever seen. Peeking out from the arm hole of his shirt is beautiful blue waves and different looking textures within the blue, and a beautiful white koi fish swimming down his arm. As the tattoo progresses, the waves begin to fade into Lilly pads and grass, and eventually becoming flowers. 

Hyacinths, chrysanthemums, lillies, and a few bigger insects like a lady bug, butterfly, even a few bees. Enjolras continues to daydream as he is staring at the man— Taire. 

he thinks of Taire’s curls being tousled in the wind, what his laugh sounds like, what his voice sounds like. 

He is pulled from his day dreaming by the sound of someone knocking on glass. 

Enjolras looks up to find Taire knocking on the glass in front of him, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

Enjolras practically squeals, his face instantly flashing pink, blush burning his cheeks and ears. 

All he can muster himself up to do is wave, and run off out of the building. 

_—————_

Fuck, Grantaire is tired. 

He also has not stopped thinking of Enjolras from Fantine’s. He’s definitely kept an eye out for him, but their paths haven’t crossed again. Not that Grantaire is LOOKING for him, do you know how unlikely it is that he knows sign, is queer, AND likes Grantaire back? 

Grantaire could probably get struck by lightning twice AND win the lottery. This isn’t some romance movie where Grantaire has met his soulmate. 

He just shakes the thoughts out of his head as he unlocks his studio room, shrugging off his coat, and hanging it up. He then decides today is a music day, and kicks his boots off as as well, leaving his socked feet bare. 

He pulls his apron on over his junky t-shirt and ties it around the back. Next is his headband, to push his curls out of his face. Have you ever tried to get dry clay out of curly hair? Awful. 

Next, he sets up the speaker, turning it upside down so the speaker will vibrate against the ground. He grabs his phone and turns on his favorite bass heavy playlist, and smiles as the vibrations begin. 

He collects his materials, pulls over his easel with reference pictures on it and a bag of clay and a pot of water. 

About half an hour in to trying to make his funky tea pot, he feels like he’s being watched. It feels like eyes are burning into his skin. 

When he looks up he’s met with those ocean eyes again. 

Grantaire chuckles and waves, his hand coated in the orange clay. 

Enjolras doesn’t wave back, just staring, daydreaming into the room. 

Grantaire gets up, wiping his hands off on a towel, and approaches the glass. They’re face to face now, Only separated by half inch glass. Grantaire knocks on the glass with his knuckle, and that breaks Enjolras out of his trance. 

He just smiles and waves and practically runs away, leaving Grantaire dumbstruck. 

———————— 

“Jo, seriously!?” Courfeyrac chides as they sit next to the man on their couch. Enjolras is hanging his head off the edge of the couch, feet over the back as America’s Funniest Home Videos plays on the tv.

__

__

He groans and rakes his hands through his hair, exasperated by the two encounters he’s had with Taire, and how absolutely stupid he’s acted at both of them. 

“I know—“ he draws out dramatically, “I know Courf. Trust me I know. He’s just..” 

Enjolras sits up, pulling his feet into cross cross position, facing Courfeyrac on the couch. 

“He’s very intimidating. I’ve never even heard him speak another word to someone— like at the coffee shop he just showed up, they handed him a coffee and that’s it?” 

Courfeyrac just rolls their eyes. “You realize the cafe does mobile orders? Or maybe he’s just that much of a regular and you never see him? That doesn’t make him intimidating.” 

“Yes.. but he’s also very big, like—“ Enjolras gestures as if he was muscular and buff, and then tall. 

“And I am, very not those things? You know? I am but a small man. He could snap me like a twig.” 

Courfeyrac snorts “I bet you’d like that, darling I don’t see the problem” they conclude with a laugh, and a throw pillow to the face from the other end of the couch. 

Combeferre joins them from the kitchen, sitting between the two, Balancing three cups of tea in his hands, passing them out. 

“No fighting. Enjolras, you should invite him to the next rally.” Ferre says calmly sipping his tea. 

_——————_

The third time Enjolras saw Taire, he may have been waiting for him. He came into Fantine’s around 9am, laptop in hand to sit and plan the rally for this coming Saturday. Thankfully the weather was looking pretty warm for January in New York City. 

He took his cup from Eponine, planted himself at a table and clacked away on his keyboard waiting. 

Every time the bell on the door jingled, he looked up. Every time, it wasn’t Taire. 

The time continued to tick by, closer and closer to the time for Enjolras to go to class. He sighs, packing up his bag, eventually heading to the door. He was checking his phone, rushing now because if he’s late to Javerts criminal law class again he’ll be locked out. 

As he rushes along, he bumps into a solid form, knocking his papers out of his hands. Enjolras groans and kneels down picking up his papers. 

He looks up and is met with those earth brown eyes, Taire is handing him the papers he dropped. 

Before Taire can even speak, Enjolras is rambling off 

“Hi oh man this is so weird but I was waiting for you but I’m running late now and I have to run, I’m enjolras by the way— I have to go but.” Enjolras starts filing through his papers in his arms, and eventually produces a neon yellow flyer, poorly made in Microsoft word, advertising a civil rights rally in battery park. “I really hope you come and we can talk more than just me rambling sorry I ramble a lot I have to go though Uh it’s Saturday so I’ll see you hopefully?” Enjolras rambled off, running out of the shop. 

_——————_

Grantaire looks down at the flier, to the door where Enjolras just ran out of, and then up to Cosette. 

_”w-t-f was that?”_ Grantaire signed, for the third time this month absolutely dumbstruck at whatever shit show just transpired. 

Cosette comes out from behind the counter, peering over Grantaire’s head, reading the pamphlet. 

She taps his shoulder, causing him to look up 

_” he wait all day, watching the door, seeing who comes. you show up, he smile— first time all day.”_ she looks at the paper again, shrugging. 

_”all off, Rel, you, me, Ep, Marius all go.”_

_——————_

Saturday approaches quickly, and the group approach battery park. 

Grantaire notes the small turn out, around the stage in the park. Maybe 20 or 25 other people were watching Enjolras speak excitedly. 

Grantaire stopped in his tracks and sighs, frustration already building at the lack of interpreters. 

_“What Wrong?”_ Rel signs, stopping the test of the group. 

_“This bullshit! No interpreter? In a public park?”_ Grantaire signs, anger lacing his face. 

_”then we tell him. Lets go.”_ Cosette signs, marching towards the stage. 

The group follows her, as the determined little Cosette excuses herself through the crowd of people. 

_——————_

Enjolras sees Cosette before anyone else, approaching the stage, Marius not far behind her, practically being dragged by his hand. He smiles at first, but then seems the anger framing her face. 

“He sees Taire next, and Eponine as well as another man he doesn’t know. 

Taire smacks his hand on the stage and starts signing and 

_Oh—_

Oh no. 

Grantaire is deaf. 

“I— I don’t know sign language I’m sorry.” Enjolras says, anxiously looking around to Cosette or Eponine, both who just shake their heads. 

“Bahorel, will you please interpret?” Cosette asks sweetly. 

The older man with them, his long brown hair is pulled back into a messy bun, his eyes sunken and dark as he shoots a look to Enjolras on the stage. 

(A/n: anything not in italics In this part is bahorel interpreting for gran) 

“First of all, how are you going to have a rally and not have an interpreter?” Bahorel says, watching Grantaire as he angerly signs away. 

“—well in my defense I didn’t know you were deaf.” Enjolras says, speaking to Bahorel specifically, watching as he signs back to Grantaire. 

This seems to aggravate him even more, as Grantaire’s signing speeds up, his face twisted in anger. 

“It doesn’t matter if you didn’t know I was deaf, you’re in a public park holding a RALLY for civil rights? Do you know how fucked up that is? To have a civil rights rally and don’t uphold the need for an interpreter?” Rel interprets. 

Enjolras turns to Rel again. “Tell him that—“ 

Enjolras is interrupted by Grantaire banging on the stage again, getting Enjolras’ attention. 

“don’t do that, don't speak to me through him. If you’re talking to me, talk to me. Don’t talk to me through Bahorel like I can’t hold my own.” Rel says. 

Enjolras sighs “listen I’m sorry, but you have an interpreter with you, I don’t see what I need to supply one for. Literally what else would Rel do?” 

“Are you fucking kidding me? Are you that dense? Yes you need to provide an interpreter because news flash: Rel isn’t an interpreter. He’s only doing this so I can roast you and you actually understand me because you’re too dense and up your own ass to learn a new language or even think of the people who don’t use the same mode of communication or language as you.” 

Grantaire stops, taking a calming breath, then continues. 

“Rel is my friend, first and foremost. He doesn’t have to do this, and it’s unfair to rely on him for my understanding. I came here to see what you had to say and you flat out denied me— that’s fucked up.” 

Enjolras scoffs and rolls his eyes 

“Well what? Do you want me to have a translator for every language? I’m just trying to get people interested , Taire, there’s no way to please everyone.” 

Instead of a response, Grantaire simply flicks him the bird and marches away. 

“Do you need me to interpret that?” Rel adds with a laugh as the group starts to follow Grantaire out. 

The last to leave is Cosette, her hand intwined with Marius’. 

Grantaire looks back, for just a moment at Enjolras with disappointment in his big brown eyes. 

And that probably hurt the most. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adhd is one hell of a time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note, everyone experiences adhd differently, these are specifically things I struggle with, with adhd. Enjoy!

Grantaire threw himself on Cosette and Marius’ couch, face down and groans. This was so STUPID. 

He’s tired... tired of having to fight for a place at the table, tired of being let down by hearing people, tired that his own stupid brain let him imagine that there was an iota of a chance that he wouldn’t be let down again. 

Cosette just weaseled her way under his head, now resting on her lap as she lovingly pats his head, running her fingers through his hair. Eponine made a few calls, and Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta were on their way. 

Musichetta herself was hard of hearing and used ASL as well ask speaking. She was probably the best to talk to Grantaire right now, having a little more understanding of how he probably felt. 

Musichetta and Grantaire helped each other.

Musichetta was raised in an oral home, her parents put her in public school, always speaking, always training, always lip reading. She learned asl on her own in high school, then when she moved away for college really delving in the deaf community, and meeting Grantaire. 

Grantaire was the opposite. His parents couldn’t have cared less, but his sister is deaf as well and quickly took him under her wing. She was 16 when he was born, and by the time she was 20 he was living with her full time. 

Eponine and Bahorel were mindlessly chatting when the front door was practically knocked down, combat boots stomping in, and Musichetta has officially arrived in all her righteous anger. She marches in, eyes burning in anger and nudges Grantaire with her foot. He instantly shoots up and the two are off, signing faster than the others (besides Bahorel) can comprehend. 

Bossuet sighs, pulling his coat off, then helps Joly take his coat off. The two join Eponine, Bahorel, Cosette and Marius at their kitchen table 

“She was so mad when you told her what happened that she almost left without her hijab on.” Joly says, slowly sitting down, his bones creaking painfully— damn winter cold. 

“But we were late because we tried to cheer her up with a scarf fashion show. I picked the one shes wearing.” Boss says proudly. The group looks over to where Musichetta and Grantaire are chatting away, expressive movements and fast signs. She’s wearing a beautiful blue silk scarf around her head with green and teal waves printed on it.  
“good choice.” Eponine says nodding. 

“I wonder what they’re saying...” Marius, the ever dense, said quietly, causing the group at large to roll their eyes.  
—————

Musichetta instantly pushed Grantaire up, wiggling between him and Cosette, who soon leaves the couch. 

First she hugs him tightly. He’s not big on hugging, but Chetta has a way to make any man made of stone feel welcome in her hug. 

She pulls away and is instantly signing away 

_“True-biz? Honest? A civil right protest no interpreter?”_ she signs, anger tingling off her. 

Grantaire just shrugs 

_”I was wrong. I put faith in random stranger. He didn’t know deaf myself.”_ Grantaire signs shrugging again, defeat shrouding his shoulders. 

Musichetta smacks his arm to get his attention 

_”no! Not right. Doesn’t matter. If you have protest for civil rights, why no interpreter? That your civil right! That all deaf people civil right! Teach him!”_ she signs again, pity on her face to see how hurt Grantaire really is, no matter how much he tries to hide it behind indifference. 

_”are you not tired of teaching? Don’t want to teach anymore! They-hearing-dont have to teach us, why I need to teach? I just—“_ Grantaire stops, wringing his hands and sighing. 

_”I just thought he was different. Don’t know why. Just thought, he different. Maybe work? Maybe I don’t know. Love-at-first-sight quickly, maybe he same? Don’t know.”_

Musichetta just wraps him in a tight hug. 

—————

Lets just say the rally ended early after that. 

Enjolras was endlessly distracted during the cleanup, he stood with a garbage bag in his hand but his mind wandered farther away. 

He was deaf. 

‘That makes sense’ he thinks to himself. It was quite possible that Enjolras never GAVE Grantaire a chance to speak, he does tend to ramble and have a very one track mind, and maybe he accidentally let his Dexedrine perscrpition lapse last week and now had to wait another week and a half for his doctor to approve his refill. 

But he was playing music in his studio? 

He’s pulled from his thoughts by Courfeyrac shaking his arm softly. 

“Jo, I know you’re having a hard time right now but we need to focus and finish cleaning up the park, then Combeferre needs to talk to you at home.” 

Enjolras sighs and nods, continuing to pick up trash. He’s eternally grateful for Courfs endless patience when it comes to his ADHD, even though he deserves to have his friends hate him when he’s like this. 

“Courf?” 

Courfeyrac looks up from where he was picking up some abandoned waterbottes, flinging them into the local recycling bin “yeah?” 

Enjolras chews his lip, and sighs “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m a bad friend. A bad person too, god that was so stupid of me. It’s all my fault.” 

Courf claps him on the shoulder, smiling softly “Jo, it’s not your fault. We all make mistakes. You’ll take what happened today and learn from it, right? That doesn’t make you a bad person. It makes you a teachable person and that’s important.” 

“He probably hates me. I sad some real asshole things.” 

Courf looks at him, up and down. “Enjolras... since when do you care what other people think of you?” He asks with a mischievous grin. 

He feels his face heat up, blush creeping across his face, ‘god Enj, cut it out’ he thinks to himself as he picks up a few more pieces of garbage. 

—————

The time was drawing near 2am as Enjolras sat at the kitchen bar scribbling away in his notebook, several cups of coffee around him, forgotten and cold then replaced with a new one, the cycle continues. 

There’s a Pizza hot pocket, long forgotten as well in the microwave. Enjolras has remembered and long forgot that he didn’t eat today. 

The lights flick on and Courfeyrac stands in the doorway rubbing his eye, still half asleep. 

“Jo.” 

Enjolras jumps up, turning to Courf who gasps softly. 

Enjolras has dark bags forming under his eyes, marks on his upper arm where he was picking at his skin, lips absolutely abused, chapped beyond need, and his hair is destroyed from Enjolras running his hands through the curls and pulling and twisting it around his fingers. 

“Oh Jo, please come to bed. Come lay with me and I’ll bandage you up. Did you ever eat today?” 

Enjolras twitches, his head rolling back against his neck and Courfeyrac sighs softly, that being enough of an answer for him. He begins collecting the number of cups and depositing them in the sink, then turns to the microwave. 

“Well, atleast you tried to eat.” Courf says with a laugh, restarting the microwave to heat the Pizza Hot Pocket. 

a minute later, Courfeyrac closes up Enjolras’ books, pushing them aside and depositing the hot pocket infront of him. 

Enjolras snaps out of his daydream and looks at Courf, “This isn’t fair to you. To anyone. You should’ve just left me here.” 

“All I’m going to say is it’s 3am, I care about you, eat your Pizza Hot Pocket so I can go to bed. We’ll talk in the morning, Jo.” 

‘Way to go, now he really hates you. Look how much you aggravate him all the time. Courfeyrac doesn’t deserve this, to be a parent to a grown ass man.’ Enjolras’ own brain berates him. 

“I want to make it up to him, but I don’t know how.” Enjolras finally says again, hot pocket finished, and plate deposited in the sink. 

“I think that’s a tomorrow problem, but we’ll figure it out. Come on, you need to sleep.” 

————— 

The next morning isn’t much better for Enjolras. He dresses quickly, only forgetting what pants he was looking for three times. He didn’t have the mental capacity to match socks today, so he dons one with candy canes on it, the other rainbow stripes, both sneaking her way into his white sneakers. 

He forgets his coffee on the table, and doesn’t remember it until he’s already two stops deep on the subway. 

He groans, he was trying to avoid Fantine’s today. He’s not in any way, shape, or form ready to go back there, what if Taire is there? What if Cosette is there? EPONINE? 

he decides to bite the bullet, and get off the subway at the stop across the street from Fantine’s. 

—————— 

Grantaire sits at the bar of Fantine’s, chatting with Musichetta and Joly. Bossuet is working today, training to be a barista with Valjean showing him the machine and what all the knobs do. 

Musichetta is flipping through Grantaire’s sketchbook, commenting on pictures of Jehan, a dog Grantaire saw at the park. 

She flips to the last page, which is Enjolras. 

_“ wow, even shaved sides of head you drew. Nice.”_ Musichetta signs one handedly as her other finger traces the shaved sides of Enjolras’ head. 

He just dismisses the page with a wave, taking the notebook to flip the page where a study of penguins from the Central Park Zoo is splattered across the pages. 

Chetta is smiling at the pages, then looks up at the loud jingling of the bell on the door to see the man who Grantaire sketched standing there, like a deer in headlights. 

She nudges Grantaire to look up from his doodling of curls—(no ones curls in particular just a hair sketch practice)— and tilts her head towards the door. 

——————— 

Grantaire locks eyes with Enjolras and quickly collects his things, shoving past him and out the door. 

“Taire, wait!” Enjolras calls and goes to follow him, but he quickly escapes to the subway station, and Enj knows he’s lost him then. 

He returns to the cafe, and it’s dead silent, save for Valjean showing Bossuet how to steam milk. 

He feels like all eyes are on him, even if they aren’t he feels she shame burning against his skin. 

He stands at the register waiting for Cosette as he digs through his bookbag for his wallet. 

Eponine walks up, types in his usual order, swipes his card and hands it back without a word. Enjolras just sighs and waits for his drink to be finished. 

“Pssst, hey, hello?” A voice calls to him. He looks around and the tanned woman who was talking to Grantaire is calling him. She’s wearing a beautiful white headscarf with paint brush strokes of grey and purple. It’s a beautiful pattern. 

“Oh— uh hello. Hi.” Enj says, he resists the urge to tic, stopping his head from rolling back on his neck. 

She smiles sweetly, and pats the barstool next to her. “We need to talk.” 

As Enjolras sits, he notices the man next to her. His cane is hooked on the edge of the bar, he smiles at Enjolras as well, though he seems nervous. 

“I’m Chetta, Grantaire’s friend. You’re the one who did the rally yes?” 

Instantly Enjolras is rambling off, individual sentences now molded into one long run on sentence. 

“I didn’t know I really didn’t I just wanted him to come and maybe learn something and you know maybe get more support for the cause and I couldn’t stop myself I have this problem— well it’s not a problem it’s ADHD and I forgot to refill my prescription but I know it’s not an excuse I KNOW THAT I just wanted him to come and maybe ask him out on a date but I didn’t mean anything I said I just was confused and when I’m off my prescription I can’t stop the stupid things that come out of my mouth I just want to tell him I’m sorry but he just ran away—“ 

Joly reaches over and puts a calm hand on Enjolras’, which began tapping aggressively against the counter as he spoke. Enjolras looks up and Joly smiles again  
Chetta smiles softly “it makes me feel better you’re so apologetic about it. Grantaire just needs time, And if you really like him that much, you have to learn his language.” 

Enjolras runs his hands through this hair, and sighs. 

“Listen, every Thursday, we meet here for a kind of, deaf social night. Why don’t you come, I’ll help you communicate, and you can meet some of the people in the community you unintentionally left out of your rally when you didn’t include an interpreter.” she says, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“Grantaire will be there, and you can apologize to him there.” 

“You’ll help me?” He says, hopeful.

She smiles and nods. “We can even meet here a few times and I’ll help you learn some signs.” 

“I’ll be there too!” Joly adds 

“Yeah, me too Jo.” Cosette says, appearing from the back room to hug him 

Enjolras just sighs “yeah. Yeah I’ll go.” 

——————— 

Enjolras is running late, of course. His prescription was filled, and it just took some time to get his brain back in order.

His sense of time was always the last thing to get back in order. 

As he approached Fantine’s, he saw Chetta waiting for him out front. She was in a warm beige cableknit sweater, black leggings and a beige and black spotted headscarf. If anything, Chetta always coordinated her outfits and it was always a beautiful ensemble. 

“You’re late.” She says, half chiding him, Half worried about him. In the week since they first met, they  
Met every day at the cafe, or Chettas apartment and practiced signs, or Chetta showed him things about deaf culture. They grew into friends quickly, Enjolras attentive to her teachings. 

“Sorry. Bad brain day.” Enjolras says honestly, nervous to enter the cafe. She just nods, and grabs his hand tugging him in. 

he’s suprised to see how many people he knows here, Jehan, Cosette, Bossuet, and Eponine are all chatting away with a few other strangers in ASL, while Joly, Grantaire and two others are signing quickly. Grantaire laughs brightly, unafraid of his laugh being too loud or too much or annoying to anyone, and it makes Enjolras melt. 

Chetta pulls him in deeper in the room, tapping Grantaire’s shoulder. When he turns, he looks happy and relaxed for a single moment until he flicks his gaze to Enjolras and frowns. 

Instantly Chetta switches from holding Enjolras’ hand, to Grantaire’s, signing quickly while enjolras just stands there. 

_” don’t run, don’t run again. Just listen to what he has to say.”_ she signs 

Grantaire looks between Enjolras and Chetta, then responds _“Why should I? He didn’t listen to me.”_

she gives him a pleading look, and he just sighs and turns to Enjolras. 

“What do you want?” Chetta interprets. 

Enjolras stares at him for a moment, he’s missed those brown eyes. He shakes his head and finally answers “I wanted to apologize. I was wrong at the park. I had some personal things going on and that doesn’t give me a right to act that way, or the right for your apology, but I just wanted to say I’m sorry.” 

Grantaire nods. “Is that it?” Chetta interprets. 

“Uh no, also...” he looks at Chetta, nervously. She just nods, encouraging him. 

_”hi, my name what? E-n-j-o-l-r-a-s. Nice to meet you”_ he signs, all jumbled and messy, but sign language no less. 

Grantaire laughs softly, not in a mocking way, more amazed. 

“Are you learning sign language for me?” Chetta interprets. 

“Well, yes. I’d like to take you to dinner and would like a way to talk to you at dinner.” He says, smiling at the blush that burns red across Grantaire’s face, making his freckles stand out. 

“It’ll be a double date, you and him, myself, Joly and B so if you need help signing I can help.” Chetta says and signs to Grantaire. 

Grantaire laughs again. 

“This is crazy, but fine. Yes I accept, dinner.” Chetta interprets smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a note! I am HoH, and work with deaf children using asl. If you have any questions please don’t be afraid!!Were gonna learn some cool things, were gonna learn some difficult things and that’s okay! Come hang out! 
> 
> Comments and kudos appricated.


End file.
